I hate to feel the clear windows
of songful sweeping vistas
that once I knew as a child only can,
would be my saving moments.

A golden yellow sunset,
reaching, straining to give way to night;
a cloud’s moist deposits taking
away a selfless heat;
This I need repeat.

My life has gone other ways now,
so those clear windows in walls too high
have taken off on other paths and so
Cannot ever be peered through.

But vistas they afforded could not have left alone
the hungry heart that pounded on
this wall I pledged to break.

And now, free, alone, awake,
I stride into the night
to find a songful sweeping vista
to be appreciated as only an adult can;
My saving moment thus returns
An evening’s end before the dawn
to reach and grab another day and
take me on this laborious way
where labor’s love shall eat alone
between the jobs that occupy
and take away the pain
of knowing,
pain of seeing
pain of everything I’ve been

to free me from myself.